I Believe
by sherlockholmes-ed
Summary: John receives texts from Sherlock. urging him to go to 221B for 'urgent business'. Johnlock slash.


**I Believe**

I believe

There is love in Heaven

All will be forgiven

-Spring Awakening-

It was a lazy autumn afternoon, and Sherlock was tapping away on his laptop, reading through unsolved cases throughout the centuries, cracking them one by one out of pure boredom, enjoying the peace and quiet. Yet it was damaged as John Watson burst into his flat. He shot Sherlock a disbelieving glare as he showed him his phone. 'What the hell was that all about?' He snarled breathlessly.

Help -SH

Come to 221B -SH

Now -SH

Please -SH

John Watson had dropped everything he had at hand the moment he received the texts. He had closed the clinic early and ran here, only to see his former flatmate sitting peacefully in his flat, typing away on his computer. Unharmed and in no need of help of any form whatsoever.

He received no reply from Sherlock. Instead, the consulting detective stood up from his chair, put down his laptop and walked right over to John, looking down at him wordlessly. The next thing he knew, he was against the wall and Sherlock was kissing him and he was kissing back. A little voice at the back of his head screamed at him to stop. For the sake of God, he was a married man, he shouldn't be doing this. But his body refused to listen to him, and instead, he knotted his hand into Sherlock's shirt, pulling him in. Sherlock pushed his erection against him, and John hardened in return. It felt so good. He had never felt so alive. He felt Sherlock's hand trail down his chest as he buried his hands into Sherlock's lush curls, tugging at them gently. Sherlock's hand was at his pants now, and adrenaline sparked through John as Sherlock's fingers of a violinist began to fondle him gently. He gasped in surprise as Sherlock pulled his trousers down all of a sudden, as Sherlock pulled back from their kiss to stare at John's boxers in childlike wonder. Sherlock's eyes slowly wandered up John's body, and when their eyes met, John's wild with amazement, Sherlock's playful, filled with a hint of melancholy and longing. And then they were pulling each other's clothes off as quickly as they could, taking away all those layers that had separated them for so long. Sherlock managed to pull John's jumper off in one smooth movement, yet John was less skilful with unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt. 'The buttons are too small for their own good,' John rasped as he fumbled at them clumsily. Sherlock sighed impatiently and slipped his shirt off, reaching for John's boxers before his shirt hit the floor.

John felt his boxers slip off his hips and then Sherlock's mouth was around him, his miracle of a tongue doing wonders that forced a little gasp through John's lips. He buried his hands once again into Sherlock's lock as he threw his head back and moaned as Sherlock jerked at him. One, two, three, four, five. And then he came, right into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock rose then, and they locked their lips together once again as John tasted himself while Sherlock eased the two of them onto the floor. Deftly, Sherlock flipped John over and slowly eased his cock into John, keeping it there for a few more moments so that John could get used to it. And then he pulled it out and John, for that split moment, felt as if he had taken something of John's along with him, making John feel painfully empty. In and out again, quicker this time. John's hips sway slowly to meet Sherlock, and their bodies moved together to a comforting, synchronised rhythm. The thrusting got more and more intense, until finally Sherlock shuddered and came all over John's balls.

They parted then, as Sherlock rolled over and lay against the wooden floor of 221B, panting. John looked over at him, beaming, as Sherlock threw him a careless smirk. 'What now?' John inquired.

Sherlock's face darkened all of a sudden, as he rose and began to dress himself swiftly. 'Thank you, John,' he said, the mirth that had danced in his eyes just a few moments ago nowhere to be found. His expression was bleak as he threw John his clothes. 'Thank you for your service.'

Then he turned and walked back to his room, leaving John on the floor. Naked. Silent. Dumbstruck.


End file.
